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The Seven Dwarfs were marching through the forest one day they fell in a deep, dark ravine. Snow White, who was following along, peered over the edge of the steep chasm and called out to the fallen dwarfs. From the depths of the dark hole a voice returned, "The Oakland Raiders are Super Bowl contenders." Snow White thought to herself, "Thank God... at least Dopey survived!"

"The greatest accomplishment is not in never falling, but in rising again after you fall. The real glory is being knocked to your knees and then coming back. That's real glory. That's the essence of it." ~Vince Lombardi~

So I explained to her that my Dogs are mixed in color, unemployed, lazy, can't speak English and have no frigging clue who their Daddies are. They expect me to feed them, provide them with housing and medical care, and feel guilty because they are dogs.

OLD VERSION:
The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and
laying up supplies for the winter. The grasshopper thinks he's a fool and laughs
and dances and plays the summer away. Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed.
The grasshopper has no food or shelter so he dies out in the cold.
MORAL OF THE STORY: Be responsible for yourself!

MODERN VERSION:
The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and
laying up supplies for the winter. The grasshopper thinks he's a fool and laughs
and dances and plays the summer away.

Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands
to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others are
cold and starving.

CBS, NBC, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshopper next
to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. America
is stunned by the sharp contrast. How can this be, that in a country of such wealth,
this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?

Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper, and everybody cries when
they sing "It's Not Easy Being Green."

Jesse Jackson stages a demonstration in front of the ant's house where the news stations film the group singing "We shall overcome." Jesse then has the group kneel down to pray to God for the grasshopper's sake.

Tom Daschle & Walter Mondale exclaim in an interview with Peter Jennings that the
ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and both call for an immediate
tax hike on the ant to make him pay his "fair share."

Finally, the EEOC drafts the "Economic Equity and Anti Grasshopper Act,"
retroactive to the beginning of the summer. The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the government.

Hillary gets her old law firm to represent the grasshopper in a defamation suit
against the ant, and the case is tried before a panel of federal judges that Bill appointed from a list of single parent welfare recipients.

The ant loses the case.

The story ends as we see the grasshopper finishing up the last bits of the ant's
food while the government house he is in, which just happens to be the ant's old
house, crumbles around him because he doesn't maintain it.

The ant has disappeared in the snow.

The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident and the house, now
abandoned, is taken over by a gang of spiders who terrorize the once peaceful neighborhood.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Vote out of office all the bleeding heart liberals.

I want to thank all of you for your educational e-mails over the past year. I am totally screwed up now and have little chance of recovery.

I no longer open a bathroom door without using a paper towel, or have the waitress put lemon slices in my ice water without worrying about the bacteria on the lemon peel.

I canít use the remote in a hotel room because I donít know what the last person was doing while flipping through the adult movie channels.

I canít sit down on the hotel bedspread because I can only imagine what has happened on it since it was last washed.

I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one past time while driving alone is picking oneís nose.

Eating a little snack sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons of Trans fats I have consumed over the years.

I canít touch any womanís purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public bathroom.

I MUST SEND MY SPECIAL THANKS to whoever sent me the one about rat poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing.

ALSO, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresaís Novena has granted my every wish.

I canít have a drink in a bar because Iíll wake up in a bathtub full of ice with my kidneys gone.

I canít eat at KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes, feet or feathers.

I canít use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

THANKS TO YOU I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

BECAUSE OF YOUR CONCERN, I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer buy gas without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer doesnít crawl in my back seat when Iím filling up.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Fanta since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put ĎUnder Godí on their cans.

I no longer use Cling Wrap in the microwave because it causes seven different types of cancer.

AND THANKS FOR LETTING ME KNOW I canít boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face. Disfiguring me for life.

I no longer go to the movies because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS when I sit down.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or Fed Ex since they are actually Al Qaeda agents in disguise.

And I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica , Uganda , Singapore , and Uzbekistan .

I no longer buy cookies from Neiman-Marcus since I now have their recipe.

THANKS TO YOU I canít use anyoneís toilet but mine because a big black snake could be lurking under the seat and cause me instant death when it bites my butt.

AND THANKS TO YOUR GREAT ADVICE I canít even pick up a coin dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting to grab me as I bend over.

I no longer drive my car because buying gas from some companies supports Al Qaeda, and buying gas from all the others supports South American dictators.

I canít do any gardening because Iím afraid Iíll get bitten by the Violin Spider and my hand will fall off.

If you donít send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 p.m. tomorrow afternoon, and the fleas from 120 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighborís ex-mother-in-lawís second husbandís cousinís best friendís beautician . . .

Oh, by the way.....

A German scientist from Argentina , after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain activity read their e-mail with their hand on the mouse.

Donít bother taking it off now, itís too late.

P. S.: I now keep my toothbrush in the living room, because I was told by e-mail that water splashes over 6 ft. out of the toilet

Sitting by the window of her convent, Sister Barbara opened a letter
from home one evening. Inside the letter was a $100 bill her parents had
sent.

Sister Barbara smiled at the gesture. As she read the letter by the
window, she noticed a shabbily dressed stranger leaning against the lamp
post below.

Quickly she wrote, "Don't despair. Sister Barbara," on a piece of paper,
wrapped the $100 bill in it, got the man's attention, and tossed it out
the window to him. The stranger picked it up, and with a puzzled
expression and a tip of his hat, went off down the street.

The next day Sister Barbara was told that a man was at her door,
insisting on seeing her. She went down, and found the stranger waiting.
Without a word, he handed her a huge wad of $100 bills.

So I explained to her that my Dogs are mixed in color, unemployed, lazy, can't speak English and have no frigging clue who their Daddies are. They expect me to feed them, provide them with housing and medical care, and feel guilty because they are dogs.

So she looked in her policy book to see what it takes to qualify.

My Dogs get their first checks Friday.

Damn, is this a great country or what???

I love the doggies though. :)

"Official Chiefs Crowd / Historian/Correspondent / Ambassador"

"The greatest accomplishment is not in never falling, but in rising again after you fall. The real glory is being knocked to your knees and then coming back. That's real glory. That's the essence of it." ~Vince Lombardi~